I don’t think of Leo that often, but over the last 40+ years, whenever he has entered my view or crossed my mind, it was always as “Leo, the guy who had my career.’
He didn’t really, but sorta. But not really. Just sorta. It went like this.
He didn’t really, but sorta. But not really. Just sorta. It went like this.
In 1975 I got a phone call from the producer at a local (Louisville area) dinner theater. I had worked at this theater less than a year earlier, so we knew each other. He wondered if I’d be interested in coming in to audition for the role of “Dolan” in his upcoming production of MISTER ROBERTS. Why, of course I would! So we arranged that I would meet him at the theater in just a couple of hours.
I arrived in good time, met the producer, and read a scene. He said, “good, good, that’s fine.” Then he drew a breath and said, “this is a weird situation.”
Turns out that he’d staged MISTER ROBERTS at another of his theaters just a few months earlier and he wanted to re-use a bunch of actors from that production. One of those actors was the guy who’d played Dolan. That being Leo Burmester.
He’d been trying to get in touch with Leo for a long time -- I think maybe he said for “a few weeks” -- but, despite leaving multiple messages with his service (ah, the olden days), Leo hadn’t called back. Earlier that very day the producer had called Leo one last time. He left a message saying that time was too short, he had to fill the role, so if Leo didn’t get back to him by 5 pm, he’d cast somebody else.
The producer told me this story in an apologetic tone. He said that the role was mine unless Leo got back to him by five o’clock. He was sorry to be so indefinite, but he needed to cast the role, he’d given Leo that ultimatum, so…
I told him I understood, no problem, and I left, driving directly home. I reached our place about, I think, 3 pm. As soon as I walked through the door, the phone rang. Of course it did. And I knew instantly what it was. Leo had just called back and accepted the role. The producer apologized again and said--as all producers do-- “I’ll find something for you in the future.” To his credit, he did. I did four more shows for him over the next couple of years.
I arrived in good time, met the producer, and read a scene. He said, “good, good, that’s fine.” Then he drew a breath and said, “this is a weird situation.”
Turns out that he’d staged MISTER ROBERTS at another of his theaters just a few months earlier and he wanted to re-use a bunch of actors from that production. One of those actors was the guy who’d played Dolan. That being Leo Burmester.
He’d been trying to get in touch with Leo for a long time -- I think maybe he said for “a few weeks” -- but, despite leaving multiple messages with his service (ah, the olden days), Leo hadn’t called back. Earlier that very day the producer had called Leo one last time. He left a message saying that time was too short, he had to fill the role, so if Leo didn’t get back to him by 5 pm, he’d cast somebody else.
The producer told me this story in an apologetic tone. He said that the role was mine unless Leo got back to him by five o’clock. He was sorry to be so indefinite, but he needed to cast the role, he’d given Leo that ultimatum, so…
I told him I understood, no problem, and I left, driving directly home. I reached our place about, I think, 3 pm. As soon as I walked through the door, the phone rang. Of course it did. And I knew instantly what it was. Leo had just called back and accepted the role. The producer apologized again and said--as all producers do-- “I’ll find something for you in the future.” To his credit, he did. I did four more shows for him over the next couple of years.
That’s just the beginning of the story --and my only real part in the story. Leo did the run of MISTER ROBERTS, then a couple of years later, he played a major role in the premiere production of Marsha Norman’s GETTING OUT at Actors Theater of Louisville. Probably no connection really, but I always associated Leo’s MISTER ROBERTS gig with him being hired at Actors Theater. In other words…maybe that could have been me.
The play got great reviews, as did Leo, and it moved to Off-Broadway where, again, great reviews and awards.
The play got great reviews, as did Leo, and it moved to Off-Broadway where, again, great reviews and awards.
From there it was onward and upward for Leo. He replaced John Goodman as Pap Finn in BIG RIVER on Broadway. He originated Broadway roles in LES MIS, BURIED CHILD, THE CIVIL WAR and others. He also appeared in a bunch of movies and TV shows, where I would regularly spot him. Most of his film work was in pretty small roles, but there were also some more substantial parts. And, small or large, he did get to work with Martin Scorsese, James Cameron, William Friedkin, Sidney Lumet, and Clint Eastwood. Lotsa great stuff.
Of course, there’s no real career theft here unless you count him taking the MISTER ROBERTS job from me. His role in GETTING OUT was not something which I’d have done well, and it was that which led to everything else for Leo. So, no, it wasn’t so much that Leo had my career as that I could watch him work and pretend that “I could have done that.” I never ground my teeth because he got roles that I didn’t. Matter of fact, I smiled when I saw him. He felt like a connection to my own past. A guy who’d made good.
I only met Leo once or twice, way back in those Aulden Dayes, and our meetings were merely of the “hey, nice to see you…hey, how are you?” sort of thing.
Leo died in 2007 of, apparently, a tick bite. One of Nature’s lousy jokes.
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